Penultimate Hustle: L.A. - Chapter One

1 – Touchdown

Chris and Janique touched down in L.A. and immediately visited
their lawyer to sign the papers insuring their continued freedom. It was a
handshake agreement that largely revolved around an exorbitant sum of money.
There were tears in Janique’s eyes when the deal was done and she was assured
of not being separated from Chris.

“Never again,” she said, hugging him tightly as they left
the courthouse.

“Now what?”

“To paraphrase Ray Kroc, I don’t make porn, I deal in real
estate.”

“So…”

“Office space. Tomorrow. Tonight, I want to be with you.
Free.”

###

That night they withdrew some play money and rented a room
for two nights so they could sleep late.

The next afternoon, Janique had her own floor in an eight
storey office complex in the valley, with an option on the floor above.

“Oh, Chris,” Janique said, hugging him. “It’s perfect.”

They made love on the floor as soon as the realtor left
them.

###

The next few weeks were set aside for planning and
decorating. Chris was exhausted just watching Janique work, and eventually
suggested she hire an assistant.

“But Chris, you’re my assistant.”

“Be that as it may, love, you don’t let me do anything.”

“You’re sweet. Being with me is all I need.”

“Still.”

“Oh, alright. Whores, or someone serious?”

“While I appreciate a good whore, I think you need a
receptionist.”

“Fuck Ray Kroc. Whores first,” Janique said.

The next day, she ran an ad. Two days later, there were
three potential draftees up for interview: Mia, Gia, and Lateesha. Mia and Gia
were blonde twins. Lateesha was a beautiful black girl with an impossibly
shapely ass and coal dark skin. Janique arranged her interview for the next
day.

Chris, meanwhile, worked on Tokio’s case preliminaries and
ran an ad for Janique’s personal assistant.

When Lateesha came in for her interview, Janique had a
contract packet ready and began detailing the benefits plan.

“Two hundred thousand for fourteen films, plus health insurance.”

“Two hundred thousand?”

“Yes, upon completion.”

“Where do I sign?”

“I’m sure you want time to read it over and decide.”

“No, thank you. I’ll sign now.”

“Well, there’s still an audition process, but I’ll let you
sign today if you want.”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

Janique slid the packet across the desk. “You can still back
out by not doing the movies.”

“Oh, I’ll do them. I need the money.”

Lateesha signed, and Janique said, “Okay, then, let’s get
you started on the package.”

“The package?”

“Tonsils, braces, tibal ligation, etcetera.”

“Tubal ligation?”

“Reversible. Drug test.”

“Drug test?”

“Drugs are not a dealbreaker. We just like to know where
everyone is at.”

“Oh.”

“Chris, what do you think? Anal bleaching on a black girl?”

Chris looked over his newspaper. “Might be cool. Like a
bullseye.”

“Anal bleaching?” Lateesha asked nervously.

“Sure. And a neck tattoo of our logo.”

Janique made a call to her doctors.

“Okay, you’re all set, Lateesha. Go here to start the
package, and report back tomorrow for the audition.”

Neither mentioned that the contract gave any other Ultimate
Hustle employee complete sexual access to the signee at any time, and always on
camera.

###

“Chris,” Janique said the next day, “I want to go see Tokio.”

“I’ll get us on his visitor’s list.”

Lateesha came in with a sore ass, showing off her neck
tattoo. When she got up to use the restroom, Janique handed Chris a tube of
cocoa butter and said, “Do your duty.”

He caught her at the sink, his cock already erect and
lubricated.

“Lateesha, you can still back out, but I’m here to audition
you.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that. You should have read your contract.”

“Can I suck it first?”

“Sure.”

She did so and said, “Bleh, tastes like hand cream.”

“Let’s start over,” Chris said, washing.

“Mmm, that’s better,” she said, and began her ministrations.
Soon, Chris had her bent over the sink, delivering an anal pounding like she
had never had before. He observed her in the mirror and came up with her porn
star name.

He finished on her face for the cameras Janique had
installed everywhere. Lateesha wore the cum out into the offices, where Janique
filmed her with a handheld.

Chris whispered in her ear, and Janique said, “Your porn
star name is Fuckface.”

“Fuckface. Uh-uh, I’m Queen Lateesha.”

“Read your contract. You’re Fuckface. But you passed the screen
test. Great footage.”

###

Lateesha, now dubbed Fuckface, went to have it tattooed on
her lower back while Chris and Janique met with Janice Livingston, the personal
assistant candidate. Her credentials were unparalleled.

“Mr. and Mrs. Turner, I have but one request: no touching.
That aside, I’d love to be part of the Ultimate Hustle family.”

“Chris…”

“I can do that.”

“So what do you think?”

“She’s your assistant.”

“Then yes, you’re hired.”

“Thank you, ma’am. You won’t regret this.”

Janice’s office consisted of a phone, desk, and empty filing
cabinet. When not answering the phone, which was mostly silent, she busied
herself with writing. Her phone list consisted of one actress, two potential
hires, and a Japanese restaurant Chris and Janique favored.

“So tell us, Janice,” Janique asked, “What made you want to
work for Ultimate Hustle?”

“Oh, to be on a winning team. Publishing is dead.”

“But you know what we do here, right?”

“Certainly. You make Hollywood grade pornography, and run a
legal escort service.”

“And what do you know about us?”

“Chris Turner, consommé x-rated actor, devoted husband,  strong arm robber, ex-drug dealer and bagman
for a heavy Japanese consortium.”

“Ooh, do me,” Janique said.”

“Janique Turner, nymphomaniac, sexiest adult actress in the
world, devoted wife and lover, driven by a desire for art and extreme wealth.”

“Wow. You really did your research.”

“I try, madame.”

“Here’s what we need today.”

Janice readied her pen.

“First, make sure Chris and I are on the visitation list for
Tokio Jones. Here’s the number.”

She handed her a Post-It note.

“Second, arrange a visit for today, and schedule a screen
test for Gia and Mia.”

“No problem.”

“Finally, we need to make this place functional. Get phones
in each room. Here,” Janique said, “Is the number of the AV guys who did the
cameras. Also, I think we need designers. Try and find us the perfect interior
decorators.”

Janique busied herself with planning while Janice made calls
and Chris read.

Eventually, Janice stuck her head in their office door and
said, “Done. Mr. Tokio Jones, one p.m., Gia and Mia, four p.m. I’ll be
interviewing designers all afternoon. Is that acceptable?”

“It’s great, Janice, thank you.”

They drove to the prison Tokio had been transferred to, both
feeling tense as they approached. Their sense of unease never left during their
stay.

The visitation room was loud and harsh, dirty plexiglass and
whitewashed cinderblock. It pained Chris and Janique to see Tokio when he was
finally wheeled in to see them. Chris tried to talk, but quickly grew
frustrated at the noise level. Janique was afraid he would lose his temper.

“Hey, shut the fuck up,” Tokio growled. “Can’t you see that’s
Chris motherfucking Turner?”

Instantly, conversations on both sides of the glass were
reduced to low murmurs.

“Toke, man, how are you?” Chris asked.

“Chris Turner, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you
doing here?”

“We have your money. We’re going to make arrangements for
your operation.”

“You’re bullshitting me.”

“Never. We’re also going to motion for a retrial.”

Tokio’s eyes misted over at the thought.

“Serious?” he asked

“Never more serious about anything,” Janique stepped in and
said.

Toke let out a low whistle. “This must be Janique. You’re
even more beautiful than he described you, and the man is a stone poet.”

Embarassed, Janique said, “Do you have a lawyer in mind, or
should we use ours?”

“Man, I’m still trippin’ off the operation news. But I do
have a dude you can use to augment your legal team. Cat by the name of Payback.”

“Payback. Is it safe to assume he’s a motherfucker?”

“Heh. We’re all motherfuckers in here. But, no, he’s just
meticulous about staying out of debt. That’s how he got the name.”

“Do you know his number?”

“Of course.” Tokio recited it while Janique wrote it down in
her flowery script on rose-colored paper.

“Worry no more, Toke. The cavalry is here,” Chris said.

“How’s Hazel?”

“She’s, um, resting,” Janique cut in. “But we’re bringing
Ultimate Hustle to L.A.”

“Wow. This is like Christmas and my birthday put together.”

“Do you need commissary money?” Chris asked.

“A true player will always stay fed, and a true player will
always stay paid. But, sure, actual ash would be nice.”

Janique wrote this down as well.

“Say, I’m slippin’, with the excitement and all. Show me
them titties, girl.”

She blushed. “But of course,” she said, revealing her perfect
tits and pushing them against the glass. Tokio’s hand moved instinctively to
his crotch. Then she raised her skirt, revealing her shaved mound and a pair of
diamond and platinum wedding rings.

“Whoa, whoa,” Tokio said. “You can’t do that to me. Damn,
girl.”

“Sorry, Mr. Tokio, sir,” she said primly.

“So, are we cool?” Chris asked.

“Cool? You two are Frosty and Santa. I’m gonna call you Kris
Kringle.”

The guards came for him, and they said their goodbyes, all
three leaving considerably happier than when they had arrived.